The Spy
by Zoey Overbeck
Summary: The RED Spy finds the seed of doubt growing within him and begins to question the meaning of the war itself.


All rights regarding the game "Team Fortress 2" are held and reserved by the Valve Corporation.

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><p><em>A Spy's job is to deceive- that is what they were made to do. However, the pressure between our disguises conflicts with who they really are, and thus sometimes they can begin to doubt themselves and who they define themselves to be. Sometimes, the truth will come out only after a thousand lies have been made. <em>

Spies are one of the few remaining people in the world that completely keep to themselves, hiding in the shadows and blissfully ignoring their as well as other peoples' dilemmas while only focusing on the tasks set for them. While the Sniper could be classified under staying in his own business until the ceasefire ended and the pointless slaughter began, the Sniper wasn't nearly as an enigma as the Spy was. Spies were not to be trusted at all, having the ability to disguise as either a friendly or an enemy into whatever class he wanted to with a mask and a puff of smoke. One wrong move, one tiny misstep, or a second's of loss of focus, and they could end up with a butterfly knife gruesomely sticking out of their back.

Spies were made to deceive, pretending to be their enemies friends before stabbing the other team's members in the back when they weren't looking. They are shape-shifters with no name or identity of their own, having disguised as other classes with relative ease. They are faceless people that are denoted only by the color of the team they're working with. With their cloaking devices, they could escape most attacks directed at them and leave only the lingering smell of cigarette smoke or even fake their deaths and return the favor by quickly ending the miserable existence of the opposing team.

Wearing the required colored balaclava that fit the monotony of his team's color, the RED Spy slinked through train yard, keeping his Ambassador reloaded and ready at a moment's notice. Seeing nobody in sight, however, comforted him. Still, he used his Cloak and Dagger to shield himself from view, slowly maneuvering himself to where the first capture point the RED team was supposed to take over was located. The Spy could hear the faint sounds of battle behind him as the newly respawned mercenaries charged out of the resupply area to engage their counterparts in combat. Thankful for not being seen by either team, he stealthily entered through the other opening and moved through the empty factory. Exiting through the garage doors as quietly as possible, the Spy hastily checked around his surroundings before continuing to move onto the point.

It was unguarded-a perfect target for any blundering Scout who believed that he could easily cap the point on his own. The Spy's instincts told him that it was not a good idea- there would usually be a Sentry set up with its equally annoying Engineer hanging around and banging his wrench on his precious machines to keep them in working order. A glance to his Cloak and Dagger watch told him that he was almost out of charge- quite unfortunate in the terms of him being possibly seen by the BLU team. The Spy wasn't as stupid as the Scout- he knew that he could use his cloaked form to scan the area for possible enemies while he waited for his watch's charge to return to full power.

Ignoring the capture point that boldly declared that the BLU team currently owned it with a flickering hologram, the Spy smirked as he was rewarded for his patience as he skulked around the area once the charging process had completed. Flashing yellow lights accompanied by the clear tolling sounds alerted the Spy to a train's arriving presence. He bounded across the train tracks and made it across to the relatively safe island that the capture point provided while the trains on both sides passed.

A flash of blue material caught had his attention as he passed, however, and the Spy quietly uttered a chuckle in his thick French accent. There was a BLU Soldier waiting for any potential point cappers on an abandoned railroad car, rocket launcher ready for action. While the Soldier was looking in his direction, the Spy smirked, knowing that he couldn't see him or recognize his existence in the small area the Administrator had allotted for the two teams of mercenaries to duke it out. Crossing the other set of train tracks once the danger of being run over had passed, the Soldier materialized into full view as the Spy approached, still cloaked.

"Bonjour, mon ami" he muttered almost to himself, a sadistic grin growing exponentially on his face.

Shifting to a better position, he smirked as he saw the Soldier continuing to camp on that spot, a sitting duck in other words. While the Spy couldn't get to the location the Soldier was on without difficulty, there was a better location to deal death without getting any blood on his expensive red pinstriped suit. Heading to the structure to the Soldier's left, the Spy hid under the staircase, letting his prey relax further into a sense of serenity. Fingering his Ambassador, he made sure it was fully reloaded one last time before ascending the stairs and decloaking.

"Be seeing you!" the Spy taunted, firing off a round at the Soldier.

The bullet struck the side of the Soldier, just barely passing under his blue helmet and causing blood to spray from the gaping wound. Immediately, the Soldier leaped from his former lookout point onto an adjacent stack of railroad cars below. Unfortunately for the Soldier, the Spy fired a round precisely at his chest- ending the struggle for life. The Soldier's body flew from the force of the impact and landed against the side of one of the cars, remaining limp as the Soldier respawned again.

Smirking deviously, the Spy quickly went down the steps and ran the length of the capture point, intending to move to a different location before the rest of his team proceeded. He strafed to the left and right, backtracking and double checking his paths to ensure that he hadn't been noticed by any other member of the BLU mercenaries, especially for the BLU's Pyro. For some reason, the firebug always seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in hunting spies, either burning them to a crisp or hacking them to pieces with his blood-stained axe.

Satisfied with the result of his reconnaissance, he prepared to cloak and move back to the battlefield, where he could now sneak up to the unsuspecting backs of the BLUs and plunge his balisong into their yielding flesh. Before he could get there, however, he gasped in awe as the Soldier leered menacingly above from his perch near the capture point. How the BLU Soldier managed to re-spawn so quickly and arrive on the battlefield greatly bemused the RED Spy.

"Oh, merde" he groaned, just before a rocket made contact with his body and blew him into pieces.

[Page Break]

The Spy tumbled out of the Respawn systems, swearing loudly in French as he felt the pain that lingered from the Soldier's rocket, even though respawning always reverted the team back to full health when the systems were activated . Around him were an assortment of his recently slain comrades as they struggled to their feet before rushing out to enter into battle once more with galvanizing war cries. The chorus of Sentries activating, guns trading bullets, and missiles flying to and fro soon filled the air, all ending the soft thumping sounds of body parts unceremoniously hitting the floor. The Administrator's booming voice over the PA system soon announced that their team had failed, for the BLU team had been able to overwhelm the majority of the RED team's defenses.

Picking himself off of the floor with an audible groan and brushing the dirt off of his suit, the Spy looked back at his teammates and lightly sighed, not understanding their almost limitless enthusiasm for fighting a pointless war. He knew that his teammates would reappear soon, but he did not want to face them yet.

Exiting the building, his eyes took in the fading sunlight through the slits in his balaclava. A deep breath took in the rich scents of the battlefield- at least, from the parts that weren't covered in blood and the almost overwhelming odor of decay. Even though it was a far cry from the expensive bottles of cologne he usually used to cover up the putrid scent of the cigarettes he smoked, it was almost... relaxing, to say the least. The sky was tinted with rich red, bright orange, light pink, and soothing yellow hues, which contrasted nicely to the barren land.

Walking past the railroad tracks and into the Factory, the Spy inwardly flinched at the amount of blood splattered all over the walls and the ground, staining them dark red. There was no doubt that by tomorrow morning, it would have all but disappeared due to the cleaning company belonging to the mysterious administration running all of the battlegrounds they fought. He followed the winding corridors at a leisurely pace, as if he knew the place by heart, exiting through the back door.

The Spy solemnly gazed at the capture point that both teams would rush to take, the neutral question mark once again taking the place of the sign that displayed which team currently possessed it. Sighing, he crossed the bridge that arched over the river and past another set of railroad tracks. His hand drifted towards his mouth and removed the cigarette, extinguishing it by crushing it into the concrete with a shoe. Resignedly shaking his head sadly, he sat on the neutral control point before laying back and closing his eyes, just letting his mind wander as the sounds of nature lulled him into a peaceful state.

The loud clearing of a throat, however, forced him out of his reverie and the Spy opened his eyes in irritation. Standing above him was the BLU Soldier that he had sent to respawn earlier, shouldering his Black Box he had traded for his usual rocket launcher and tapping his booted foot impatiently on the concrete ground below. Two stone cold orbs stared at him from underneath the blue helmet, fixated at the enemy lying on the ground beneath him. It was obvious that the Soldier had been on watch at the time in case the RED team was going to ambush the BLU fort during the night.

"Maggot!" the Soldier barked angrily, reminding the Spy of his team's Soldier.  
>"Oui, monsieur" the Spy replied, slowly sliding into a sitting position and taking another cigarette out of his disguise kit, immediately lighting it and offering it to his enemy, who shook his head vigorously.<br>"I don't smoke" the Soldier grunted, plopping down beside the RED Spy. "Besides, I don't take bribes from my enemies, you loathsome worm."  
>"Not a bribe, monsieur" the Spy replied coolly with only a slight hint of irritation in his voice.<p>

The Soldier only grunted in response, not finding any reason to give any of those RED maggots any spark of hope that they would be able to win tomorrow. After all, the Soldier knew that morale was crucial to how a team performed in a war. Time and time again that rule had been proven, especially in World War II, where he could strongly remember joyfully killing off Nazis for years in blissful ignorance after America had crushed Germany's will to fight and the war had ended. After all, it wasn't _his _fault that he didn't know the war had ended while traveling solo and fighting alone.

"What are you doing here, maggot?" the Soldier barked loudly at the French man, who flinched as the former shouted directly in his ear.  
>"That is not of your concern"<br>"I demand to know or else I'll blow you to bits" the American replied threateningly, shaking his Black Box lightly for good effect. "I doubt you'll respawn, giving the time of day, you maggot"  
>"Oh, please monsieur. You have got to find better insults than <em>that<em>" the Spy said, reaching into his suit pocket for his Ambassador when the Soldier made movements to wrap his hands around the Spy's throat. "

The Soldier froze and backed off, growling and muttering insults at the French man. Both men gave equally dirty glares at each other, holding each others gaze for what seemed like forever before the Spy broke eye contact, tired of playing this mindless game of war and hate.

"This is getting quite tiring. Can't a man have a little peace and quiet during war?" the Spy groaned, flicking off some ashes that had gathered at the end of the lit cigarette.  
>"No!" the Soldier shouted, waving his weapon around like a madman. "This is war, and you will respect it whether you like it or not! Why, if fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must-"<br>"Oui, oui" the Spy replied, dismissing the Soldier with a lazy wave of his hand. "Sun Tsu, animals gathered in one place, farm... I have already heard it from my team's Soldier too many times"

Frowning, the other man moved away from the Spy and lay on the other side of the control point, looking up at the twinkling stars that shone on both men from above as the last vestiges of the Sun's rays faded away. Soon, the moon appeared, and started to shine brightly in the night sky, a beacon that shone for the lost and troubled. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily across the moon, highlighted by the lunar rays as they passed it by. The faint sounds of the RED Engineer's guitar playing was soon accompanied by the BLU Medic's violin. The battlefields seemed so different at night, when both teams weren't mindlessly slaughtering each other over a pointless war waged by two old coots that couldn't settle their differences in the past century. The endless battles were caused by Blutarch Mann and Redmond Man, who were descended from Zepheniah Mann and couldn't find a better way to settle their differences than to hire teams of mercenaries to kill each other day after day.

"When this is over, what do you plan to do?" the Frenchman asked, slightly turning his head to his enemy.  
>"Why do you want to know?" The American grumbled, crossing his hands in front of his heaving chest.<br>"Just curious" the Spy shrugged. "All wars do come to an end, some just drag on for ages"

The other man momentarily glanced at the Spy before grunting in response again. The two spent their time in silence, save for the occasional train speeding by or a short conversation consisting mostly of small talk. The Soldier mainly recounted his experiences fighting in the war and rambled on the importance of war in terse sentences, being careful not to feed his enemy any information that he could use. The Spy did speak about some of his past, but his thick French accent made it hard for the Soldier to understand what he was saying, who then pitched a fit, believing the Spy was lying to him.

The Spy wanted to talk to the Soldier about how he really felt about the war, but stopped, sure that he would get another verbal attack from the Soldier when the hard-headed man's temper reared its ugly face. Surprisingly, the Soldier was the first to speak about the war, grumbling that it was an exception to his credo regarding fighting wars. The war they fought didn't have any point to the senseless fighting in the first place unlike the second World War, and there was pretty much nothing to do except kill the opposing team, capture points, and push a wooden cart with an oversize bomb that constantly embedded splinters in his skin. The Frenchman could agree with the militaristic man on a few of his points, though he angrily snapped when the other man made comments about the French army's performance in the war.

The smoke from the Spy's cigarettes wafted lazily in the air, causing the Soldier to start loudly complaining about it and a verbal joust between the two to flare up. Multiple insults in their native tongues were traded from each mercenary as their diatribe grew fiercer by the minute. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, midnight came, and the two parted ways, each looking over their shoulders to ward off an unexpected attack until the other disappeared from view.

The Spy dusted dirt off of his expensive, pristine suit and hung it in his closet. After checking to make sure his Ambassador was cleaned, his balisong was ready to spring into action, his Cloak and Dagger was working properly and fully charged for tomorrow, the Spy brushed and changed into his night-clothing. His teammates had already gone to sleep, save the Sniper, who could work long hours on the weekdays and be as languid like a sloth during the weekends. Sitting on his bed, the Spy fingered the picture of him and the BLU Scout's mother, sighing longingly as he recalled those days. There used to be writing on the back of the photograph made by the Administration, as the engraved marks from the pen clearly advertised that, but it had somehow been destroyed.

"Ah, ma petite chou-fleur" he breathed, reiterating the same loving words he had uttered to her those many years ago.

Laying back on his bed and idly replacing the photo within his nightstand's cabinet, he thought back to his encounter with the Soldier, and how even the most war-hardened ape could feel some of the backlash resulting from the war's rippling effects. Crushing the remains of the spent cigarette in a glass ash tray, the Spy pondered on the meaning of the war itself, whether it could be translated into human greed or merely just... pointless fighting for the amusement of the cruel Administrator. Frowning, the French man turned on his side and extinguished the soft light from his lamp, leaving him with his thoughts until he silently drifted off into the space within the sacred silence of sleep.

_A Spy is a mere illusion, showing up one second and dissipating into thin air the next. They are shadows that trail after you, cloaked in the dark and haunting every one of your footsteps. He is silent as death himself; his shadow is death's shadow. He is as slippery as an eel, and has the cunning of a coyote and the intelligence of a predator to match. There is almost nothing that can stop him when he locates his target and doggedly pursues it until it dies.  
><em>

_The Spy has already breached our defenses... you have seen what he has done to our colleagues... and worst of all, **he could be any one of us**.  
><em>

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><p>The fight between the BLU Soldier and the RED Spy was played by Beriothien and I during one session we staged at the map just to kill each other for fun instead of actually playing the map. I actually don't remember what class he killed me with after I killed him. Since I don't have Team Fortress 2 yet (playing it on my brother's account), I'm pretty much a little enthusiastic at being able to play with them on my own Steam account when I do get the game.<p> 


End file.
